


Put my Heart at Ease

by demonsonthemoon



Series: Winterhawk Bingo Fills [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Aromantic Character, Arospec Clint Barton, Multi, One Night Stands, POV Alternating, Sexual Content, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:27:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29804286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonsonthemoon/pseuds/demonsonthemoon
Summary: For the first time in ages, Bucky has a one-night stand.He hadn't quite expected to meet the man's roommate too. He hadn't quite expected that he would know her.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov
Series: Winterhawk Bingo Fills [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1885450
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36
Collections: Winterhawk Bingo Round Two, Winterwidowhawk Fest





	1. Bucky

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter fills my Winterhawk bingo square for "One night stand"
> 
> Title from Hurricane by Panic! at the Disco.

Bucky couldn't believe how easy it was.

Letting himself be pushed against a wall and kissed breathless, watching the man kissing him – Clint, his name was Clint, they'd told each other that much at least – throw his keys into a wooden bowl without looking.

Why hadn't he let himself do this in so long?

(There were several reasons for that. Scars, a broken heart, anxiety that stuck to his skin so badly he was convinced strangers could smell it on him.)

“Come on, the bed's a lot more comfortable,” Clint said, grinning against Bucky's mouth.

“I'm plenty comfortable already,” he replied, pulling the other man against him, letting them both feel each other getting hard and getting heady more from the possibility of it all than because of any physical pleasure.

Still, he let Clint drag him forward by the wrist, past the hallway and into a large room with a mezzanine. They passed two closed doors on the way, which Bucky assumed lead to a bathroom and another bedroom. It made sense to assume the man had a roommate, considering the location and size of the place. Bucky certainly wouldn't have been able to afford it on his own.

“This way,” Clint said, starting to climb the stairs to the mezzanine.

At least there were stairs. Bucky had become kind of uncomfortable with ladders when he'd had to learn to navigate them without pulling on his left arm. It wasn't something he wanted to have to explain to his one-night stand.

A one-night stand he might do well to focus on, now that they had reached his bedroom.

“Sorry about the mess,” Clint said, blushing slightly as he threw a pair of dirty underwear into an overflowing hamper.

Truth be told, Bucky found it endearing. It showed a lack of preparation on Clint's part, like maybe he had been as surprised as Bucky had been to find their tongues in each other's mouth midway through the night.

“Nothing to apologize for,” he replied, smiling with satisfaction when Clint let himself be pushed towards his bed, sitting on the edge and allowing Bucky to move onto his lap and resume kissing him.

Clint was a good kisser. Enthusiastic, but not to the point of forcing things. Happy to let Bucky take his time, to let him explore without pushing back, at least not until Bucky bit down on his lower lip and swallowed his moan. Then Clint fisted his hands in Bucky's long hair, pulling down slightly until Bucky was forced to look up, the position accentuating Clint's height for a second, before he moved to press kisses against Bucky's jaw and along his neck.

Bucky ran his hands across Clint's back, rucking up his t-shirt, and felt some of his usual nerves returning. This wasn't his first time having casual sex, far from it, but it had been... a while. He was mildly afraid he had forgotten how to share that kind of intimacy without breaking open. He couldn't remember what it had been like, before, what he had used to say or do, how to ask for what he wanted, how to know what that even was.

“Can I take your shirt off?” Clint asked, mouth trailing along Bucky's collar.

So that was how.

“Yeah,” Bucky answered. He wasn't ready for the grin Clint shot him in response. The guy couldn't possibly be real.

Clint started unbuttoning Bucky's collared shirt, carefully, and Bucky had to groan into the other man's hair at the aching _slowness_ of it all. It made Clint chuckle, and in the end Bucky stood up, stripping his shirt off himself and going for his jeans while he was at it.

Clint's eyes rested on the scars over his left arm for a second before running down his chest and settling on his crotch.

Bucky felt himself blush.

Before he could say anything embarrassing though, Clint pulled his own shirt off, making his hair stick in all directions and Bucky's fingers itch to run through it.

Clint stripped to his underwear as well, showing no shame in his pizza-patterned boxers as he laid himself down on the bed. Bucky climbed over him again, holding his weight on both his forearms as he kissed Clint once more, lining up their bodies so they could push into each other through layers of cloth.

He wouldn't be able to hold this position for long, his left arm already sending up annoying prickles through his nervous system, but it didn't really matter. He didn't think Clint would mind having to reverse their positions.

Bucky reveled in the sensation for a moment. He'd been so scared to try this again, so certain that the lack of knowledge would be like a rock between them, making them unable to move. Insted, it was the opposite. He owed Clint nothing, expected nothing, and the gasp-worthy sensation of their erections brushing against each other in a maddening rhythm was all the more freeing for it.

Bucky would leave later that night, or maybe in the morning, and he would steal nothing of Clint's, and leave nothing behind but a vague smell of sweat in the sheets.

The idea that that could be all that he and Clint both wanted filled him with more warmth than he knew what to do with.

Bucky Barnes had gotten his heart broken a few times, and broken other people's too. Part of him was convinced that that was all he was, something to break. But Clint's bed held no space for his ruins, and so Bucky let himself fall onto his back, pulled the other man on top of him, and rested his hands on the edge of Clint's boxers, looking for permission in the clear blue eyes above him.


	2. Natasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fills my Winterhawk Bingo square for "roommate AU." After all, the square didn't specify who the roommates had to be.

Natasha stared at the coffee-pot, willing it to brew faster. She hated travelling at night. She'd snatched a bare two hours of sleep during the flight, but she knew that trying to go to bed now would only mess up her circadian rhythm even more. She would just have to struggle through one miserable day.

Soft noises started coming from the mezzanine. After a few seconds, Natasha realized it probably wasn't Clint. The footsteps were too quiet.

_Ah._

It wasn't unusual for Clint to have people over when Natasha wasn't in the flat. Especially when she was gone for more than a few days. (He got lonely. Natasha found it very cute.) However, the fact that it wasn't much of a surprise didn't mean that Natasha was ready to make small-talk with whatever stranger Clint had picked up, not without either sleep or coffee in her system.

She was even less ready, however, to realize that Clint's latest bed partner was not a stranger at all.

James Barnes stopped halfway down the stairs as they both stared at each other.

“So... You're the roommate,” James said.

 _Fuck_. Nataha hadn't thought about him in three years, and he was now standing in her appartment. He looked sleep-mussed, obviously wearing the same clothes as the day before, his long hair tangled in places.

He looked well-fucked in a way that Natasha knew intimately.

“Do you want some coffee?” she asked, desperately looking for something to do so she could assess the situation and come up with any kind of plan of what to say.

“Um, sure,” James replied.

Natasha turned around, where she found that the coffee had finally finished brewing. Small mercies.

The thing was, in any other situation, Natasha might have been happy to see James. Although she wasn't sure he would say the same thing, which was why she now felt nervous.

Three years ago, Natasha had been spending a year in Russia as an exchenge student while she finished her dance studies. James had been working as some sort of engineer for a way-too-secretive company Natasha was certain had ties to various nefarious organizations.

They'd been in love. Or they could have been, if they had allowed it to happen, if Natasha had given them a fighting chance.

But Natasha had been going back to the States and she had known that a long-distance relationship wouldn't have been enough for her, and so she had broken James' heart as gently as she could and they had stayed each other's biggest “what could have been.”

So yes, meeting him again in the appartment she shared with her best friend (with benefits), after he had slept with said best friend and while she was exhausted... wasn't exactly ideal.

Natasha handed him a mug of coffee. Then she took out the milk and the sugar, even though she took hers black.

They sipped their drinks and stared at each other.

Natasha didn't know what to do.

She was the one who had burned the bridge between them, she was well aware of that. It had been for both of their good, at least in her mind, but she couldn't begrudge James if he hated her for it. Asking him how he had been felt almost like a joke in these conditions. (Natasha had never been good at small talk.)

“Oh, Nat, you're back!”

Natasha craned her neck to see Clint leaning across the railing of his room. She felt herself smile uncontrollably at the sleep-soft look on his face.

A mug of coffee clanked against the countertop.

When Natasha turned towards him again, James was already moving. “I'll just grab my things and go.”

“What? Wait,” Clint started as James brushed past him and into the bedroom. “You can stay for breakfast, if you want. At least finish your coffee.”

Natasha didn't hear his reply, but she did hear Clint's shocked response of “My? No! We're not together, what the fuck? She's my best friend. I mean, we fuck sometimes but-”

She sighed. Of course Clint Barton would choose honesty over what was practical at any given moment. There was a moment of silence, and then the stomping of boots across the floor and down the stairs.

“James, stop,” Natasha said, cursing all men in her life as well as her own hang-ups about intimacy and the fact that she couldn't leave well-enough alone. “This isn't what you think it is.”

“And what would that be?”

Natasha heard Clint come down the stairs, and she knew he was probably staring at them both in confusion.

“Clint didn't cheat on me with you, he's not manipulating my feelings and I'm not manipulating his. We're not dating, we're not exclusive when it comes to sex, and everyone involved knows that.”

“I sure as hell didn't know _you_ were involved.”

“It's not-”

“Don't.” James ran a hand across his face. “I'm not mad at you. You haven't done anything. I just... This is just a fucking mess.”

Clint cleared his throat. “Can one of you explain to me what the hell is going on?”


	3. Clint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fills my Winterhawk Bingo square for Threesome :P
> 
> (I'm not sure whether I should change the rating to explicit... let me know if you think so!)

_Clint hummed around Bucky's cock, teasing him more than anything. It wouldn't do to break the focus with which he was eating Natasha out._

_He let off Bucky's dick, grinning at the aborted motion of the man's hips as he chased his pleasure. He didn't move from between Natasha's legs despite that._

_Clint watched them for a second, happiness warming his skin._

_He was proud of them._

The first time Natasha and Bucky had seen each other again, it had taken all of Clint's negotiation skills to stop the other man from running out outright and instead accept to take his number. After all, their night together had been fun and Clint knew where his priorities lied.

Still, he'd been fairly certain that the other man would never call. But he had. He'd called more than a week later and apologized, and then he'd talked about Natasha.

Clint hadn't hold the fact that he had apparently been totally in love with Nat against him. It was understandable to anyone who had met the woman.

Clint had off-handedly offered that they hook up again, and had almost dropped his phone when Bucky had agreed. So he'd ask Natasha to stay at a friend's for the night, and her face had done a much too complicated expression when he'd told her he was seeing Bucky. And then later that evening, Clint had ended up naked in his bed while the guy he'd just blown talked about his roommate.

It had seemed pretty clear by then that neither Natasha nor Bucky was quite over what had happened between them, even if it had been three years ago and on another continent.

And although Clint tended to shy away from those kinds of all-encompassing feelings and the commitment that came with them, he also understood very well that others didn't work like him. So he had started matchmaking.

Could it still be called matchmaking if the people involved had already been in love with each other?

A little too late, Clint had realized that his efforts might cost him not one, but two of his now semi-regular sexual partners. Possibly his roommate, if things started going _really_ well between them.

Maybe even two of his friends, if they turned out to be the kind of couple that go so absorbed by one another they forgot that other people existed. Considering the intensity of their feelings three years after breaking up, they might just be.

He went ahead with the plan anyway. He was that good of a friend.

(Another theory was that he didn't think his worth measured up to that of the people close to him, and that was why he didn't think twice about compromising his own wants. Clint wasn't a fan of that theory.)

Although his matchmaking efforts were first met with confusion, then annoyance, then more confusion, he did manage to slowly get Natasha and Bucky to talk to each other. Mostly by begging Bucky to spend time at the apartment and then finding ever more ridiculous excuses to leave him and Nat alone. Until the moment when he didn't have to beg anymore, because Natasha and Bucky were making their own plans. Although Clint _was_ surprised at how many of them included him.

They went to the park together, and Bucky bought him ice-cream. They went to the cinema. They even went to dinner, the three of them, and Clint dropped sauce on his white shirt and the other two only teased him for it a little.

One night, after an inadvisable amount of alcohol had been consumed, Clint finally said what had been on his mind for close to a month.

“You know you guys can tell me that you're together, right? It won't hurt my feelings or whatever. I can find other people to fuck.”

“See?” Natasha said pointedly. “I told you we needed to be clearer.” It didn't make any sense.

“How clearer could we have been?” Bucky whined. “We bought the guy dinner.”

“You guys buy me dinner all the time,” Clint pointed out with a vague gesture of the hand, even though he wasn't sure what the conversation was about anymore. It was the truth. Apparently Clint couldn't be trusted to cook for himself.

“We bought you _fancy_ dinner. We told you to dress up!”

“Are you insulting the way I dress, Mister greasy hair?”

“Oh for fuck's sake-”

And then Bucky kissed him.

Of course, on its own, the fact that Bucky had kissed him wasn't any cause for alarm. They kissed all the time. When they were in bed. Alone. Never in front of Natasha.

Clint stared at him.

“We like you, you idiot,” Natasha interjected from where she was curled up in an armchair.

“What? But you're in love with each other.”

She shrugged. “So?”

“So?”

“Is it so hard to think we can _also_ like _you_?” Bucky asked.

Natasha winced, before ordering Clint not to answer that question. He glared at her.

“This is a conversation we need to be having sober,” Natasha stated. “But Clint? We're not going anywhere.”

_They had kept that promise so far._

_Natasha lied down next to Bucky as the aftershocks of her orgasm waned. Clint moved upwards, bending over the other man to chase the taste of her in his mouth. The fact that the position allowed for their erections to rub together was just an added bonus._

_“Clint, come on,” Bucky whined against his lips. He'd probably been teased long enough._

_Clint had never expected that the most proeminent feeling he'd feel as his took both their cocks in his hand would be fondness. He'd never expected to ever share anything this intense with one, let alone two people._

_Clint wasn't in love, not like Natasha and Bucky were and had finally admitted to barely a week before. But he still loved, and was loved in return._

_This was sex, sure, but it was also friendship. And a little bit of commitment, which he'd never thought he'd be happy about._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a lot for reading this small fic of mine! It was kind of an experiment, because I really needed to be short, but I also wanted to explore the multiple POVs and have at least a sketch of a complete story be told. Feel free to let me know if it worked or not!


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